Desert Sand
by aboh
Summary: A prophecy named the one from another world who would become the savior of the Kemetian Empire. He never desired to be one but his obsession for the mystery priest seemed to seal his fate. Yaoi. SetoSeth.
1. Lost in the desert

Pairing: implied Seto/Seth  
Rating: PG-13 for now. The rating may or may not change.  
Disclaimer: Yu-gi-oh and its characters are properties of Kazuki Takahashi.  
A/N: messes up with the format and punctuations. I don't know how to fix it.

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Sand was everywhere, in his eyes, mouth, hair, and clothing, clinging on him like a second skin. The uneven ground shifted ceaselessly under his boots, yielding easily under the weight like soft mud. Sand dunes almost a thousand feet tall loomed up from one side, still and emotionless, threatening to slide and burry any unfortunate victim underneath, the monotonous landscape spreading for miles without any sign of life. Behind him, his footsteps left an endless trail on the sand and lost into the horizon. The sun was an immense round disk that bruised everything in angry red with its blazing light. Even with his trench coat covering his head, he was still dizzy from the heat, his tongue and lips blistered, his face burnt, his skin seeming peeled away to stick into the black turtleneck. He was being dehydrated very quickly but there was no water. Every step he took was a strenuous activity with grains of sand clawing up to his calves as if to drag him into the desert's bosom.

He couldn't remember how long he had been walking. It might have been days or weeks for all he could recall. The only means that assisted him to distinct between days and time was his body's reactions to the rapid changes of the weather. During daytime, it was unbearably and painfully hot but at night, when the stark white moon hung above, it turned dreadfully cold, almost enough to freeze his bones and pulverize rocks. He had spent the unforgiving nights sheltering in hollow regions of sand dunes with his trench coat high up his face and often woke up half-buried under the sand by the time the renewed vigorous sunlight shone down from above.

If he thought hard enough, he could recall the time of himself in the confinement of his bewd jet whose once familiar comfort now seemed forgotten. There was none of that left but the memory of a savage sandstorm that had raged so suddenly and fiercely, and the electrical sparks from torn wires as the cracking sound of metals came. He had been panic and angry at the rapid emergency flashes and artificial voice suggesting a parachute jump but his instinct made him set out with his survival pack barely in time before the jet propelled into a whirlwind where it was ripped apart and its remnants started to burn like fireworks.

It was sheer luck that he had not sustained any serious injury as the result of the haste drop from such height but his luck seemed short-lived. First, his food had been lost a long time ago somewhere along his journey, and second, the little water he had was running out. Even if his resistance and will to live were high, several more miles of walking without shelter or water would be the end of him. At the moment, his every thought focused on the barren sand and heat that were quickly overtaking him. There was no hope left but his legs kept walking forward as if he was a drown man who struggled even as his body was sinking to the bottom of the ocean.

Pulling the bottle of water out with a shaky hand, he rubbed his other hand briefly on his shirt and then his mouth on his palm to get rid off the sand before tilting his head. The precious few droplets dripped on his tongue and that was it. They were the very last drops, enough to moisturize his dry throat, let alone to quench the raving thirst. He let out a dejected sigh, wetting his patched lips with his equally swollen tongue. The empty bottle was dropped and forgotten. Whether he could still walk or when he would collapse no longer mattered when all hopes were lost. The sand continued to rise and fall, the air getting even hotter by minutes if possible.

One step, two steps, three steps. He concentrated on setting his feet straight, following his instinct for a general direction because everywhere, the scenery was the same, and if he was walking in a circle, then let death claim him. He couldn't think much but he dreamt. In his dream, he was in a lake full of fresh water that rippled rhythmically around his body. Opening his mouth, he took in a mouthful of the cool stream but instead of the delightful liquid, the water had turned to sand.

He had fallen again, now a tumble of sand and arms. It was hard to distinct which part was his and which part was sand. Reaching his hands to grab any handhold, the sand slipping through his fingers effortlessly. The failure of the task resulted in him sliding and soon rolling down, the world quickly transforming into a series of yellow dots that swirled in grainy asymmetrical circles. As the fall slowed to a stop, the sand was hot and rough against his face and there was some of them in his nostrils and mouth. He lay still for a moment before moving to swipe the sand off with difficulty -- a useless act for more of it seemed to get on him, almost alive as if it started to become a part of him. Either that or he was turning in sand himself. Struggling to defy gravity, he stood up but his legs gave out. He stumbled again, this time with strength completely drained away from him.

He no longer desired to move, too sleepy and exhausted that sprawling on the abrasive sand that scratched his skin raw seemed cozy enough. He could see an oasis in front of him, very similar as the ones in his many previous illusions. He knew it would dissolve away the moment he attempted to reach it and yet he could not resist from his yearning and hope in the vision. With one arm thrown towards to dig into the sand, he dragged his body forward and started crawling without realizing it. It felt like forever until new illusion caught up on him again more vividly. There was him curling up with a book in his favorite chair, blissfully happy and content as Mokuba hung around, his voice small and cheerful, a gentle breeze cooling down the heat and lulling him into a deep slumber.

He shook his head and the illusion changed -- stranger this time because it accompanied sounds. He saw himself walking, feet light on the sand with a flutter of long white robe. The image was getting blurry but still too bright as though the burning sun was playing some sort of trick on him again. An undistinguishable void was directing at him but it might just be the sound of another sandstorm that would soon sweep him into its arms or burry him under its wake.

He was extremely sleepy. Perhaps, if he could sleep a little... just a little... he would be able to preserve enough strength to cross the desert --


	2. A stranger named Seth

The crystalline chandelier had fallen from the ceiling by an upturned chair and scattered flamed books. Orange fire crested the expensive furniture, licking the shelves and creeping along the walls. It was difficult to breathe and see. Seto's eyes were stinging from the flame and a billow of rolling smoke in the air but he was not concerned about anything save for Mokuba whom he must save even with the cost of his own life.

His running steps brought him to a corridor leading to the right wing where his brother's room located. In this area, it burnt even harder and there seemed nothing inside that wasn't sunk in flame and smoke. He didn't think twice, nor did he halt. Instead, he sped up and jumped through the fire, simultaneously wrapping the trench coat about himself to minimize the risk of exposure. Fire caught on the tail of his shirts followed by the first sensation of pain, his skin scorched and blistered within moments. He tried to smother the fire but it increased in intensity until his whole body was burning like a torch.

/NO! Can't... I have to save Mokuba... Mokubaaaaa…/ he screamed and thrashed in delirium and woke up.

When he opened his eyes, the world greeted him in a soft blue. There were no fire, no black smoke, no toppled objects on the ground, and no need to run to save Mokuba. It was nothing more than a dream, he realized and sighed as his panic faded into a throbbing headache and weariness. Exhausted, he stayed still. It took some time but at last, he could catch up with his memory of his days in the desert after the destroy of his jet by a serve sandstorm. It was impossible to recall anything beyond that point except the shifting sand and burning lights.

Above him, the ceiling was of a soothing color and there were musical sounds of water running over rocks. His throat suddenly felt dry and there was the presence of sand in his mouth. Someone was supporting him up and lifting a cup of water to his lips. As a dying man, he drank it off quickly and was gladly accepted more offer of water, the thirst blurring away the fact that the great Seto Kaiba was accepting help, from a stranger nonetheless.

"Where am I?" he asked in a voice, hoarse and weak as if his tongue was made of coarse sand, too tired to get angry at his helplessness. The one who answered him was a young man who could easily pass as his twin brother. Despite the simplicity of his clothing and indifference of manner, he carried a quiet air of dignity and elegance with just a hint of hidden alertness around him.

The man did not answer but set one hand over his eyes and whispered. "Sleep."

Almost immediately, his eyelids felt heavy and soon, his eyes closed on their own wills to lull him into a deep sleep.

It was all dark around him when he was awakened again. A wet towel was on his forehead, slightly warm from the temperature and heat of the day, a blanket tucked around his body, clean and fresh of soap. There was also the smell of herbs which seemed to originate from a nearby location.

He felt as if he had been sleeping for a very long time and his strength, drained and depleted before, now was returning. With little difficulty, he pulled himself up, disregarding of the cold air scaling his bare arms and torso.

There was movement and he couldn't stop from expelling a relieved sigh as he recognized the man's shape in the bleary light casting through the bars of a window. A cool hand carefully set on his forehead to check his temperature but he brushed it off with a wave of his hand in disagreement. A murmur of apology was heard. The other shifted away and in a moment, a pale yellow light flooded the room, providing a sense of peace and humble coziness which he unwilling embraced.

The man looked youthful up-close but his face -- smooth jaw and bright eyes -- wore a solemn expression. He was the perfect vision of detachment and austerity which Seto thought just belonged to some aged and respectful bishops of a French church. Uncomfortable suddenly with the idea, Seto turned away.

"How are you feeling?" the stranger questioned, voice tranquil, monotone even but his eyes were taking a slow and deliberate scrutiny of him. The act made him slightly irritated and conscious, not because he was unaccustomed to attention but because of the awareness that he was being affected by this mystery stranger's unabashed look. He avoided the man's eyes and busied himself with scanning rapidly his surrounding.

Beside a single bed which he was occupying, there were large pots in a corner of the room and quite a few wooden crates stacked neatly on one side. In the middle of the room, three of them looked suspiciously like the poor substitutions of two chairs and a table upon which sat a small oil disk -- the only source of light in the room. There were sounds of running water -- distinct and close now -- such a comfortable presence which made him unconsciously yearn for a long bath.

"Where am I?" eventually, he questioned and turned back. The other had settled into the ever aloof expression.

"You're in my sanctuary in the middle of the desert, twenty days away from civilization," replied the latter. Seto didn't find the answer particularly helpful but he put the matter aside momentarily as a cup of water was passed to him. The liquid was clear, not as much as what he usually had but for a dying man, it was more than sufficient.

"Come and have dinner with me, stranger. Be grateful for what that is given to us by our Gods and king."

/A religious fanatic/ Seto decided and after a moment of hesitance, took the offer and dragged himself of the bed. Having used to live on barely sustainable meals daily didn't spare him from the appetite resulted from days without anything in his stomach. They washed their hands with water in a basin before settling down on the makeshift dinner table. It was not surprising to find the meal composed by a meager of homemade bread and jam. As if the host was trying to compensate for the frugal dinner, vegetable and fruit were generous.

Seto wasn't modest in satisfying his hunger. It was not until the meal have almost finished that he noticed that the other man barely touched his own food. He looked up and caught those searching eyes but didn't withhold his gaze. The other's eyes were of a Prussian blue with a glowing ring of sepia as if the desert sun burnt from the corona. Brilliant and intense, they seemed to pierce through him. This time, it was the stranger who faltered and looked away. Seto took in a breath, consciously aware that he had been holding it the whole time.

"I apologize. It is not my intention to treat you with such imprudence but it is imperative to know whether my guest deserves our God's kindness. What's your name?"

He thought it was ridiculous to mention God every single time but he focused on the question instead and replied, "Kaiba Seto."

There came a brief moment of silence as something akin a smile graced the other's lips. He asked the same question out of courtesy and received an answer. "Seth, son of Khasekhemwy at your service."

It was strange to feel familiar and close to someone whom he had known for less than half a day. No, familiar was not an accurate word. Seto was sure that he had known this stranger for a very long time although every fact suggested that he knew nothing about him beside the name. Curiosity seized him. He wanted to know everything about Seth, who, why, what and how. Feelings were, however, easy to control and thus, he commented none as Seth started offering more information.

"We were on an errant when we saw you caught in a sandstorm. Initially, I thought your spirit was gone but my friend realized that you were still breathing. After bringing you here, we healed you up and waited until you woke up."

"Do you have a friend?"

"Yes, she's sleeping by now. I'll introduce her to you if opportunity allows because I know she'll be delight to see you," replied Seth with a fondness so unfamiliar to Seto.

/A female/ Seto scowled deeply at the idea, suddenly feeling heavy at heart. It could have been his general dislike for females or distaste concerning his having received help from a female.

"It's my pleasure," he lied easily and looked briefly into Seth's eyes to ensure the impression of honesty. Before the sun came tomorrow, they would part and everything was but an illusion, even this cool fresh air on his skin, the sweet taste of fruit lingering on his tongue and Seth's soft voice.

"Is there any way to contact my agent in Japan?"

The other frowned slightly, lips set in thinking and eventually gave an explanation. "It is unlike me to know not of this Japan empire. You may cross the desert to ask those who have more wisdom than me. Yet, unwise it is to cross the desert on feet for although the sandstorm has long stopped, there are clear indications of its soon return. Provision, I may have enough but horses, I do not have. 'Tis your own choice to go before the dawn breaks or stay till the storm is cleared for your safe journey."

Everything seemed perfectly logical but Seto couldn't bring himself to trust. It was purely a survival instinct which alerted him the possibility that Seth was hiding something from him.

At the end of the meal, Seth quickly cleared everything up and bade him good night. Then, the light was blown out and the door was shut.


	3. Voyeur

The night had been peaceful with only brief visions of a far world thousands years away. In his dream, someone was standing in the middle of a ruin with long hair and blue robe flowing in the wind. At a closer look, the man carried striking resemblances to Seth whose dragon was coiling around his body, its vast wings spreading wide and enveloping all the white light emaciating from a golden object held forth in an outstretched arm. In that posture, still and yet alive, he looked beautiful and mighty. His opponent was none other than Yugi in equal might, surrounded by a red hallo of the desert sun, the Dark Magician above him tall and proud.

Seto woke up to the twilight. His dream although slightly different, was essentially the same as the one he and Yugi had during their Battle City duel. It not totally unpleasant but unnerving. If the young hermit was the same priest he saw in his dream and the mural in Domino Museum, it meant he was not living in the 21st century but three thousands years ago.

Totally ludicrous!

Pushing the thought aside, he looked outside the window. The patch of sky was a uniform gray with no signs of the sun, the air cool and fresh, soaked in the night's stillness that made it easier to discern the sound of flowing water. It was another short moment of inefficient use of time to stay on the bed, stretching his muscles and blinking the night away but then, that was the end of luxury. After putting on his shoes, he pulled himself away from the bed almost immediately. He had expected to see a basin of clear water, fresh towel and single meal waiting for him on the table but there was none. The owner was also absent.

The wooden door gave an ancient sound as he pushed it, the hinge barely holding it in place. Seto found himself in a place serving both as the living room and kitchen. Despite the scattering of shelves and crates of scrolls, bottles and vials, there was a remote sense of organization in the room. As Seto looked around for Seth, he discovered that there was no other bedroom -- the idea that Seth and his female friend had left him the only bed made him quite conscious.

When he walked outside, it was still earlier than he'd initially thought. Comparing to the arid desert, this place could have been Eden. The sun was all but invisible, the earth tinted of red but groves after groves soothed the bold color with their green shade. The little harbor was a small house nested beside a spring from which spilled artesian water. It looked so appealingly cool and clear that the urge to cool his sore feet returned. Taking off his boots and rolling up his leather pants, he waded down and washed his face and arms. The seducing water beckoned him to tread further pass the curtains of palms and branches skirting the water surface.

Suddenly, he halted for the sight in front of him was not possible considering his situation.

There was, unmistakably, a blue eyes white dragon in the stream. The morning light was drawn towards it and reflected back from the pearly dews on its magnificent body, making it vividly real. It neither was moving nor directing its attention on him for its long neck was bending over a figure whom Seto immediately recognized as Seth. The young hermit was utterly still like a statue with his arms loosely wrapped over his chest and lower body submerged in the water, his eyes closed, face calm and serene.

It was a scene of harmony and the mystical tranquility was almost sacred.

In the next moment, the precious silence was broken like a crystal. It began with an indiscernible swirl in the waters around the slender waist and a gentle draft which seemed to rejuvenate and fill everything with life. The branches moved in jubilance with the rippling waves and then Seth started to move. The shifting of elegant arms and small curved body were extremely graceful and expressive, all of the stiffness last night lost in the tilt of smooth neck, dark color of eyelashes and fullness of lips. When Seth commenced pouring water over him from cupped hands, it was almost sensual and erotic but the young man was doing it with a genuine reverence as if he was practicing a morning ritual to whatever deity he worshiped.

Suddenly, Seto realized that he had been staring. In a moment, he would retreat to the harbor and forget this scene but something stilled his steps.

It was the sight of imperfection on an otherwise flawless skin. A scar started barely two inches below Seth's shoulder blade and ran on a slanted path to one side until it followed the prominent bones of his hip and expired underneath the waters. The tissues were pink in color, slightly puckered and particularly painful looking. It could have been ugly but on this young man, Seto found fascinating and mesmerizing. When a subtle throb began from his side and ran along his body, he was startled to realize the acutely familiar feeling as if he knew the wound as if he had known it for a long time. Yet, he did not know how and why. Still, his side were hurting and it seemed to him that if he could touch the other, the pain would go away.

He must have been trapped in a spell for he was unaware that the young hermit had caught his appearance and turned frozen in the midst of his ritual. He didn't even notice the threatening bare teeth from the white dragon as he crossed the distance. There were the thump thump sounds of his heartbeats and warm smooth skin under his palms but he did not have time to ponder.

"Why?"

It was his own voice but it seemed to come from somewhere behind him. It was not until the naked body gave a tremor and sudden intake of breath that Seto startled and lapsed into his fully controlled self. Eyes caught his in a moment of breathlessness, intense blue fire blazed with emotions and he sunk into its depths in an unfathomable drop that he was afraid he would never hit the bottom. None of them moved until the answer came, spat out through bitten lips, echoed by a sound roar from the dragon.

"Mind your own business. Take your ungodly hands off me!"

The eye contact stopped. As they met eyes again, he saw none of the emotions earlier, even anger and embarrassment were too forcefully suppressed that only the barest trace of them left. Seto turned away with an inaudible murmur of apology, his audacity still unexplainable. The waters went chilly and unwelcoming, the coarse sand whispering under his steps.

Not long before the sun clear the bleakness away, Seth walked in, dressed carefully with not a hair out of place, his face smooth and emotionless. They passed without acknowledgment of each other's presence. He had much to say but was unable to find the right words. The packing was swift and simple for he had no personal belongings and the provision was ready. Hoisting the duffle bag on one shoulder, he considered of a gesture to show his gratitude for the help but decided to skip the formality.

Indifferent eyes flicked at him, spending barely a second on his face. "Follow the stars to go Northeast. The sandstorm will never cease but nothing can hinder your path if faith is with you. Beyond the desert, you will find the Wise from whom you will find counsel. Now, leave and don't ever return."

Seto left without looking back or saying anything.

If at Seth's sanctuary, the weather was cool, barely a few miles away, it turned ardent with fierce rages of sandstorm that buried him deep under the hot sand. Covering himself with the trench coat, he waited a few hours for the storm left but it didn't. His following attempts to walk were easily defeated until the sudden drop of temperature indicated the nightfall. He spent much time to think about Mokuba and the strange hermit ,and without his consciousness, he started to accept the fact that he was either not in his own world, or living a dream which he knew not of the way to escape. Dream or not, if this world was indeed the Ancient Egypt, then the only person he knew that could shred some light into this was Yugi, the pharaoh.

It was near midnight when he came back. Without wasting time for pleasantries or explanations of his return, he said, "Bring me to your king."

The young hermit immediately stiffened up, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He looked uncertain for a moment. The show of emotions on his countenance was subtle but enough to catch Seto by surprise -- such a deep and profound longing but… for what?

/Home./

When Seth gave him his back, along with disappointment, Seto felt... rejection. His pride and dignity would not allow himself to ask again and yet, he must make this stubborn man listen to him. The point was how? His fear was, however, no longer necessary for the other was saying quietly, "It will be done."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

They stayed in the sanctuary for the night, again with Seto taking up the bed and the hermit no where to be seen. As soon as dawn broke through, Seth brought him breakfast and left as quietly as he'd come. By the time Seto was done with his meal, he discovered that Seth had finished packing up and was preparing to set the whole place in fire.

No words were spoken, fire catching on the reed mats and woods easily, rolling on the wet earth like a living red snake. Seto looked regretfully at the burning shelter -- the only one in miles -- without questioning the deliberate action of the hermit who stood stoically next him, staring directly into the fire with his eyes open.

The smell of ash and fire followed them even long after the dragon's powerful wings lift them over the sandstorm and floated above the endless sand. Not long before the sun rose high above them, they reached regions of civilization where little houses rose from the horizon and fields of green covered the dark earth in miles.

The wind was strong enough to cool away the heat. At the speed they were going, the ride was both exhilarating and thrilling and even though Seth was giving him a cold shoulder, it did not stop him from enjoying the wonderful view from above.

They flied straight into the heart of the city, above which the dragon circled three times before lowering down a courtyard undoubtedly built for this single purpose.

Seth took off the dragon's back immediately the moment it touched the ground, leaving him behind. When he jumped down after Seth, he discovered that they were not alone. Several people whom Seto could only refer to as servants and guards were waiting for them. Despite the number of people, the air was surprisingly quiet that he could hear his own heartbeat above the dragon's heavy breathing.

"Seth…" he started but stopped at the sight of a figure standing opposite them. Seto could see none of the man's features for the man was covered from head down in a long white robe. All he managed to see from behind Seth were the broad shoulders and the tall stately presence speaking of the man's status.

Unexpectedly, the man stepped forward and enveloped Seth in a tight embrace.

"Seth, it's been too long," the man croaked, voice shaking like that of a father who had not seen his son for a very long time.

Seto frowned at the long fingers and wizened hands that grasped Seth with strength perhaps strong enough to hurt but Seth did not protest nor did he return the affection. The sentimental moment was touching but brief.

As they parted, the formal air settled down upon them and just then, the old man began to direct his attention at Seto. He caught the white eyebrows, thin lips, and crooked nose under the hood but they did not disturb him as much as the mismatched eyes, one of them red in color, the other glinting golden behind a mass of white hair.

The eerie eyes took in his features, swept through his clothes in a close scrutiny and then returned to Seth. And yet, even when they no longer focused their attention on him, Seto still felt as if his every movement was observed, recorded and evaluated. In the pit of his stomach, there was a growing sense of uneasiness and wariness of danger.

"Is this the One?" the old man questioned in a hard voice completely devoid of the earlier emotions.

It started daunting on Seto whom Seth learnt such indifference and apathy.

"Yes, it /is/ him," Seth said and titled his head slightly towards him in emphasis, his expression icier than it had been yesterday.

"Lord Akunadin, if you can excuse me, may I go and make myself presentable?"

"Go now and be swift."

The man waved to send Seth away and turned towards him. He suddenly felt even more uncomfortable and awkward.

"Seto, is it not? I am Hem-netjer Tepey Akunadin, Bearer of the Millennium Eye and Keeper of the Temple of Tablets. It is of gladness that God light your path and guide you here. We have been waiting for you long enough."

The man said in a voice that demanded respect from him even if his frustration was fueling the amble of anger inside him.

Still, when he replied, he could not keep the annoyance from his voice, "I don't understand any of this. Why are you waiting for me?"

The old man seemed surprised but it quickly changed into slight amusement. "I see. He has not unburdened himself to you after all, and yet it is not unexpected. I understand your feelings but have no doubt that all will be revealed to you when the time comes. Now, enough with the talking. We are wasting the daylight. His Majesty summons we both."


End file.
